Posts in Contemporary

He grabs my legs, lifting me effortlessly as if I weigh nothing, and pushes me onto my back over the buoy. The wet surface shifts slightly beneath me, unstable, but he holds me steady, his grip firm and commanding. My thighs are forced apart, my heels digging into the stone. “Look at you,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust and something darker, something dangerous. “So fucking pretty like this, spread out for me. I bet you’d let anyone see you like this, wouldn’t you? Just to feel this full.”… Read More

Frost drops the buoy in front of me, the water rippling as it lands. He doesn’t say a word, but the command is clear when he grabs my hips and drags me toward it. I stumble forward, my hands landing on the smooth, rounded surface to steady myself. Before I can catch my breath, he pushes me down, bending me over so my chest presses against the buoy, my ass high in the air. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he adjusts me like… Read More

The force of his entry drives me onto my tiptoes, my back arching as he fills me once more. The smooth stones slick and unstable beneath my feet. The shallow water offers minimal support, and I wobble, my arms instinctively reaching back, grabbing onto his forearms. His skin is slick with a mix of water and sweat, the muscles taut and hard beneath my fingers. He’s a solid, unyielding presence behind me, a wall of heat and muscle. He grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, anchoring me…. Read More

The world slowly reassembles itself around me, the kaleidoscope of sensation fading, leaving a pleasant ache between my legs, a warm thrumming that echoes the rhythmic lapping of the water against the stone edges of the pool. I’m still straddling the buoy, my body humming with the aftershocks of my climax, the gentle rocking motion strangely soothing against my sensitized skin. Frost’s hands linger on my hips, his touch a lingering brand, a reminder of the intensity of what just transpired between us. He pulls me off the buoy, the… Read More

Trust me. I look at him. Searching his eyes. Or perhaps I’m just searching my mind. For the latest signs of psychosis. Because, of all the insane things he’s said to me, that is, by far, the most insane. I want to tell him I trust him as far as I can throw him. But then…that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? If I didn’t trust him on some level, I never would have agreed to come into this pool knowing I can’t swim. Or let him teach me how…. Read More

“You…can’t swim?” The surprise in his voice is almost comical. He stands there, half-naked, his jeans pooled around his ankles, a look of genuine bewilderment on his face. It’s a flicker, quickly masked, but it’s there. For a split second, the impenetrable Dr. Frost is…confused. And it’s the most human I’ve ever seen him. I clutch the coat tighter around me, the thick wool suddenly feeling thin and inadequate. “Is that a problem?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intended. The heat of the greenhouse, the humidity clinging to… Read More

I sit naked in the dining room, every nerve ending raw and screaming from a sleepless night of denied release. The same chair. The same room. The same wired, trembling mess of a body. Betraying me with each passing second as anticipation coils tight in my belly. Footsteps echo across the hardwood floors, and I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest. Frost appears in the doorway wearing dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt, the casual attire somehow more unnerving than his usual clinical presentation. “Good… Read More

The silence in the dining room presses in on me, suffocating, heavy. It amplifies everything: the frantic, trapped beat of my pulse, the raw, needy throb between my bare thighs, the sick, hollow cavern where my stomach should be. I stare at the food on my plate, a perfect, untouched arrangement of salmon and asparagus, quinoa salad like a miniature garden. It should be enticing—the smells alone make my mouth water— but I can barely bring myself to lift the fork, heavy and cold in my hand. My own body… Read More

Frost’s words saturate the dining room and my mind, making my heart throttle to full speed. As he sets me on my feet, the world tilts on its axis, and I’m not sure if it’s from the sudden movement or the reality-warping effect he has on me. He turns to the cart, and I watch, my chest rising and falling rapidly, as he pulls out…a stethoscope? The sight of it transports me back to our first meeting, when it hung casually around his neck, a symbol of his authority that… Read More

“Hand me two dinner plates from the cart,” Frost instructs, his voice a low command in my ear. I shift to reach the plates, inadvertently grinding against his erection. Every millimeter of contact between our lower bodies that can happen in this position does. The friction of his pants sends sparks of sensation through me that I tell myself I don’t want, but I have to bite my lip to stifle a gasp. I manage to grasp the plates, their cool edges a stark contrast to the heat of my… Read More